


Meet Me Inside

by DenialAndError



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Professor barnes, Reader is graduate student, Reader-Insert, kinky professor sex anyone?, marvel AU, professor bucky, she's just trying to get you laid, soon to be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenialAndError/pseuds/DenialAndError
Summary: You really wanted your last year to go without a hitch so you could finally get your Masters degree. But then Professor Barnes walks in to your lecture. And he makes it a whole lot harder to focus.





	1. Chapter 1

Rubbing the fatigue from your eyes, you groan as you roll over, picking up your phone and squinting as the screen shines far too brightly while you turn off your alarm and drop the phone back on to your bedside table.

“Last year” you mutter to yourself repeatedly as you roll out of bed and get ready.

Only one more year and you’d finally finish your Masters Degree. The thought, however, was always threatened to be dampened by the realisation that you’d need to make plans for what you would undertake after you graduate, but you pushed the thought aside whenever it threatened to linger.

Although you’d refused the offer to go out the night before, you had stayed awake for much longer than you should have and it showed. Your eyes were puffy and dry from lack of sleep.

“Last year” you mutter to yourself once more.

As was routine, you tie your hair back, dress in whatever is clean, grab your phone from the bedside and your bag from beside the door, locking your apartment as you leave.

* * *

 

Coffee cup in hand, you check your new timetable one last time as you walk along the campus grounds. The sun beamed down but the brisk autumn wind was beginning to blow this time of year and the white stone buildings practically shone under the sunlight. The grounds were buzzing as new students huddled around maps and timetables to figure out their way around the university.

Taking a sip, you step on to stone walkways lined with pillars as you walk along the building front before pushing through the doors, opening to a hallway of lecture rooms. Your shoes echoing as you walk along, counting down the door numbers.

Lecture Hall 4.

You were 15 minutes early and so it came as no surprise that the auditorium was empty as you walk in, the automatic lights flickering on as you walk up the steps and along a row of seats before planting down your bag. Taking a seat, you pull up your texts.

> “ You better be coming in today ”

It doesn’t take long for Natasha to reply

> _“ Too early. Too much sunlight. Can’t handle. ”_

You groan to yourself. She might have been kidding but the thought of it being a possibility, of having to sit through the first class with a new teacher without Natasha to talk to if things go south was dreadful.

> “ Get your ass out of bed ”
> 
> _“ I didn’t get home till 3. My room is spinning. I think I’m dying.”_
> 
> “ I’m going to kill you, Romanoff ”
> 
> _“ Too late. Already dead. Shouldn’t you be mourning the tragic loss of your best friend or something?? ”_
> 
> “ I swear, if this new professor is as bad as Smiths last year, I’m holding you personally accountable for leaving me to suffer through it alone. ”
> 
> _“ Well if you’d come out last night, you wouldn’t be there. ”_
> 
> “ If I’d gone out last night, I’d still be here. Just incredibly hungover. ”
> 
> _“ … That sounds like a you problem. ”_

You shoot back a reply as people begin to trickle in to the room but the lack of response confirms that Natasha had once again fallen asleep. You begin plotting your revenge.

The auditorium slowly begins to fill as more and more sleepy students walk in. Nobody likes an 8am Monday lecture.

Taking another sip of coffee, you glance at the door, waiting to see what fate had instore for your Monday mornings this term and, as if on cue, the door swung open and in walked Professor Barnes.

The room goes quiet.

_Holy shit_

His black shirt was tucked in to his dark blue jeans which practically _clung_ to his thighs. His dark hair framed his face, brushing against his shoulders as he strode across the room to the desk, placing his briefcase on top and taking out his notes.

“If you guys are this quiet all the time, we won’t be having any problems” he smirked, looking up at the eyes watching him, everyone unsure how lenient he would be.

Placing his notes on top of his briefcase, he turned to the computer, quickly opening his presentation slides before turning back to the seats, walking to the front of the desk and leaning back against the edge.

“I’m Professor James Barnes and I’m going to be taking you through the romantic period in Literature. You will have four essays for this course – “

He is cut off by groans from the class and he chuckles

“Don’t give me that, you knew exactly what you were getting yourselves in to. As I was saying, you will have four essays due before your dissertation which is written in consultation with a supervisor.”

You find yourself focusing more on the way his lips form the words than on the words themselves.

Snapping your gaze back to his all-too-blue eyes, you try to pay attention. But as as luck would have it, he decided that is the perfect opportunity to turn and take something out of his briefcase, pulling his shirt taught across his back as he reaches over, giving you an eyeful of the muscles in his back. You quickly chance a text to Natasha.

> _“ How the fuck am I supposed to focus with Mr Sex-on-legs teaching us?? ”_

You put down your phone just as he turns around and holds up the first book you’ll be studying.

The lesson continues without a hitch. That is, if you don’t count the times you got distracted. But it was as if he knew exactly what he was doing, leaning against the desk and crossing his legs as he stood reading a passage, only to make the denim of his jeans press against his thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He moved around the room as he gave his lecture and you couldn’t help but notice how many girls were hanging on his every word. You weren’t in the position to judge, however. The way he moved as he spoke oozed confidence and there was a sort of swagger to his walk.

_God damn it._

He ran his hand through his hair for what felt like the thousandth time that hour and every single time, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through that hair.

_Get a grip, woman!_

You shake your head slightly as you snap out of it. What were you doing? Looking down at your page, you sigh. You’d made practically no notes that lesson. You were going to have to pray he gave access to his class notes. And at that thought, his voice cut through your reverie.

“That’s it for today. Since it was the first class of the year, I was taking it easy but make sure you’ve done your reading for next week. My office hours are on Tuesday and Thursday from 12 to 3. I’ll see you all next week, bright and early”

And as luck would have it, his eyes landed on you as he finished speaking and he punctuated his sentence with a wink and a grin.

You rush to throw your notebook back in to your bag, hiding the blush that rose to your cheeks. Damn that man and his grin. And hair. And shoulders…

You walk across the aisle and down the stairs without daring to look back at Professor Barnes. His charm was going to be the death of you.

The rest of your day drags on in comparison, every lecturer deciding to give a similar speech about the importance of your last year and your choice in essay titles before jumping in to their respective syllabus.

Natasha had evidently woken up and you now had 12 messages asking about the “hot professor” she’d missed out on. And you smiled knowing she was waiting for a response she wasn’t going to get.

It’s almost 2pm when you arrive back at your apartment and it takes a grand total of 20 minutes for Natasha to arrive, knocking on your door.

You let her in and the questioning begins.

“Are you seriously telling me the one day I don’t come in, the professor isn’t an old bald guy?”

“ _One_ day _?_ Who are you kidding? Also I think I recall you drooling over a certain Professor Rogers last year”

“Oh you know what I mean. Is this some sort of karma because I didn’t give that guy my number last night? What do you have to eat? God, Rogers was definitely something, wasn’t he?” she makes her way to your kitchen behind you.

You turn around, grinning as you take out the extra burrito bowl you’d ordered last night “Just wait till you see Barnes” and Natasha’s face lights up.

She’s disheartened to hear that you hadn’t taken notes. That is, until she hears the reason behind your lack of attention, at which point she is quick to forgive you.

“I’m gonna get his lesson plan online though”

“Eh, it’s only the first day” Natasha shrugs off. You raise an eyebrow “Didn’t you just whine about me not having my notes?” you retort. She swallows her mouthful of food before replying “Yeah but if I’m going to go find that lesson plan and make my own notes, I might as well have gone to class. That’s too much effort.”

That afternoon, when sitting beside Natasha on the couch watching movie after movie, you decide to look up the class notes. But as soon as you opened up the course details, all you got were the introductions to the upcoming lessons and what reading had to be done. Your heart sank. Opening a new tab, you decide to send your professor an email. With the help of Natasha, of course.

> _Dear Professor Barnes,_
> 
> _I attended your 8am class this morning but due to being unwell, I wasn’t much use when it came to writing notes. I was wondering if it was possible to access the class notes for today? I will make sure this does not happen again._

You sign off before sending the email and setting your laptop aside, despite Natasha’s insistence that you be honest about the reason you couldn’t focus. “Tell him his eyes were too pretty and you couldn’t help it” which wasn’t funny until you looked up to see the dead serious look on her face. “Hey, I’m just trying to get you laid. If it happens to be kinky professor sex, that’s a bonus” she defends herself when you snort.

Not long after you’ve returned to watching the movie, you hear your laptop chime and you feel a knot in your stomach as you open your emails once more.

> _Dear Miss (Y/N)_
> 
> _Thank you for emailing me and making me aware of your difficult situation. Sadly I’m guessing you’re just as hungover as the 4 other individuals who have emailed me tonight and I must repeat the sentiment I explained in class; this is not an easy syllabus. It is up to you to make sure you work. If that is too difficult, then it may be best if you drop the class. I will not be posting my notes from the class this syllabus and I know that neither will many of my peers. I suggest you try and collect notes from another classmate this week and make sure you’re well enough to focus in class next week._
> 
> _Many thanks,_
> 
> _James B. Barnes._
> 
> _Department of English Literature_

Your groan catches Natasha’s attention, who promptly turns your laptop to herself and begins reading. She finishes with a sharp inhale and raised eyebrows “Ooooh he sounds pissed”.

“Great, I couldn’t get a grip enough to make notes and there’s no back up. God, what about next week?… What are the chances he turns up wearing a trash bag so that I can focus?” you suggest weakly, earning a chuckle from Natasha. “Oh please, you’ll still be wondering what’s underneath”. You slap her arm playfully as you laugh.

“I guess I could go explain in person? Maybe it won’t seem like such a cheap excuse?”

“Oh yeah ‘Sorry sir, I was too busy looking at your thighs to listen to what you were saying. I wasn’t hungover at all, see?’ That’ll go down well” she rolls her eyes. “You know what? I’m not even going to share the notes if I get them” you retort and she grins. “Yes you will. You love me.” “You’re the actual worst, you know that?”

Opening up your timetable on your phone, you finally crawl in to bed. You didn’t have any lectures from 12 to 2 tomorrow. _Perfect. I’ll just have to go talk to him_.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up to 4 texts from Natasha wasn’t what you had expected. She had early morning lectures so it wasn’t a surprise but you hadn’t planned on having a discussion on what you should wear that particular morning.

> _“ Are you seeing Professor Sexy McSexface today? “_
> 
> _“ Okay I gotta admit, that’s not my finest work. But it’s 9am, sue me “_
> 
> _“ You should totally wear something hot just fyi “_
> 
> _“ I’m sure that’ll help him give you his ‘notes’ ;) ;) “_

You can’t help but laugh at her early morning ramblings. How she managed to function in the mornings was still a mystery to you but you guessed it had something to do with an entire pot of coffee. Rolling out of bed, you send a response.

> “ And why would I wear something hot? “
> 
> “ Also that last one doesn’t even make sense, what is wrong with you? “

But the thought began to look appealing. He’d shown no interest in you whatsoever yesterday. _Yeah because he’s your professor, this isn’t some damn romcom_ you remind yourself. And yet… Here you were considering dressing up a bit as opposed to the usual “throw anything on” approach you had begun to take after being in university for so long.

Your phone chimes.

> _“ It totally makes sense. And someone has to be there to counter his hot-ness. The world depends on it. “_
> 
> “ Tad melodramatic. Also you haven’t even seen him yet Nat how would you know?? ”
> 
> _“ Eh, your description was good enough. And I may or may not have googled him last night “_
> 
> “ You’re an actual stalker omg “
> 
> _“ I didn’t get to see him! I had to! Stop changing the subject, you should wear those shorts I borrowed last month ”_

And as if the world was on her side, your eyes land on those very pair of shorts poking out of the clean laundry basket you had yet to sort. _Thank god I’m lazy_.

Walking over, you pull out the item in question. _Wait, you’re actually considering it?_ You ask yourself. It’s surprising. You’ve never been one to dress up just for a man. But you had to admit, it would feel good to dress up a bit after looking like a slob yesterday.

And once again, your phone chimes.

> _“ Is this silence to be taken as a yes? “_

You think it over a moment before replying.

> “ Might as well. It’ll feel nice not looking like a hobo ”
> 
> _“ Mhm. That’s totally why. Whatever helps you sleep at night, hun. Own it! ”_

You roll your eyes playfully as if she was here before putting down your phone to get ready.

* * *

 

Turns out, once you got started, it was hard to stop. Swiping on some mascara, you check the time before grabbing your stuff and leaving.

Walking in to the auditorium, you see a few people scattered around the room but Professor Rogers was yet to arrive.

Taking a seat, you pull out your phone to send Natasha a text but you’re interrupted by her walking in, taking a second to scan the room before her eyes land on you and she makes her way to the seat beside yours.

“Dang, you really did dress up” she teases and you nudge her, rolling your eyes and grinning. “No no, you look good. Really good.” She reaffirms.

You eye her before chiming “You going to try and deny wearing that top for Rogers?” you ask with a smirk and she smiles coyly “Nope.” She says simply and with that, Professor Rogers strides in to the room.

You had to hand it to her, Natasha was good. She spent the lesson utilising any opportunity she could, so whenever Professor Roger’s eyes drifted over to her, she’d be leaning forward or nibbling the end of her pen. By the end of the hour, the poor guy was visibly distracted. You spent the hour trying to stifle your laughs. He dismisses the class and clears his throat when his eyes land on Natasha one last time, hurriedly walking out before the students.

“Do you want to get lunch before or after you meet Professor – “

“Might as well get it over with” you interrupt her before she could make another nickname and she smirks at you. “Good, then you can tell me all about it”

“About what? Him giving me his notes? What in the world are you expecting to happen, Nat?”

She wiggles her eyebrows and you scoff, deciding now was the perfect time to arrange somewhere to meet before heading towards Professor Barnes’ office.

It wasn’t hard finding the room; it was in the same building where Professor Rogers’ office was located. And so here you stood, rehearsing what you were going to say one last time before knocking on his door.

You hear movement on the other side of the door before it is swung open and you lose your train of thought. His hair is tied in a small bun at the back of his head and he’d tucked the hairs that couldn’t reach behind his ears. He wore a white tailored shirt, the sleeves rolled up to just under his elbows, and black suit pants. “I always forget to leave it open” he grins before beckoning you in with a tilt of his head.

The office is larger than you’d expected. His desk is covered in messy piles of papers and books, a laptop set in front of a leather desk chair. Behind which, the wall is hidden almost completely by bookshelves, each filled to the brim. Opposite the door is a couch set under a window, the sun shining in to the room. He points to one of the two armchairs set in front of his desk as he speaks. “So what can I help you with?”. You take a seat as he leans against the front of his desk, picking up a cup of coffee he’d left on the table and sliding his free hand in to his pocket.

His eyes are on you and you’re thrown off guard, trying to remember what you had rehearsed.

“Um, professor, I’d – “

“Please, call me James. Professor makes me feel like I’m a high school teacher. Sorry, continue”

You were watching his lips again. _Fuck_.

“I emailed you yesterday and I thought I’d come and explain myself in person”

He nods his head knowingly, almost as if he’d expected as much, and his lips curl in to a smirk. You continue.

“I wasn’t hungover, Profe – James” you correct yourself. “I actually stayed home despite my friend’s insistence. But I guess I caught something and so I couldn’t focus in class, like I tried, I really did, but I felt stuffy ya know? Not like a runny nose but just” you stop abruptly. “… Stuffy” Your voice quietens as you see the bemused look on Professor Barnes’ face and you realise you’re rambling.

Your face heats up. He’s silent.

It’s too quiet.

You become flustered and continue “I really wasn’t hungover. I did try, honest. I know it’s my responsibility to make notes and listen in class and a Masters isn’t like a bachelors or high school where we’re spoon-fed, I know we need to be responsible but I was caught off guard. I was distracted.” You explain, once again rambling. You raise your gaze from where it was focused on a pile of papers behind him and see he has an eyebrow raised. Your eyes widen slightly. “By the cold” you explain. He hums, nodding his head once again, the bemused look still flickering over his features.

The blush on your cheeks stays strong as you deflate. You’d been so ready to explain yourself but one look at him and you were a goner.

Being so caught up in scrutinising yourself, you miss what he says. Lifting your gaze, you look at him with a blank expression and he grins.

“Take the notes. But just this once” he repeats, his arms now crossed across his chest.

Relief soars through you, your face lighting up. His smile matches yours as he tilts his head towards a pile of papers beside him.

Standing, you step towards it to see the sheet of paper on the top of the pile, yesterday’s date and “Lit – Romantic Period – Week 1” titling the page. Taking it, you turn to look at Professor Barnes and your eyes widen.

_Was he checking me out?_

When you had turned to face the man beside you, his eyes shot up to meet yours.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion, not fully grasping what had just happened, but it’s enough for Professor Barnes to avert his gaze and clear his throat.

When he speaks, his voice no longer holds the playful, light-hearted tone it did mere moments okay. “If that is all, I’d like to return to my work.”

“I – uh – yes, that’s all. Thank you” you stutter. He simply nods his head, already back in his chair, not raising his gaze from the laptop in front of him. But a small smirk plays across your lips. Professor Barnes chances a glance and looks thoroughly confused when he sees the smile you’re wearing.

You drop your gaze to hide the smile, shaking your head slightly before collecting your bag from beside your seat and walking out of his office without saying another word and he watches you leave with that same confused look on his face. You make sure to leave the door ajar.


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha was practically bouncing in her seat when you told her.

“Look I’m not even sure if it happened”.

You’d been pretty shocked (and practically giddy) at what had happened. But the further you got from his office, the more you started to wonder if he really had been looking at you, or if you’d just imagined it. It happened so quickly.

“Didn’t you say he wouldn’t look at you afterwards? You caught him staring, the poor guy was obviously embarrassed” Natasha explained, rolling her eyes at your reluctance.

“He wasn’t exactly all sunshine and daisies before that, Nat. I’m probably overanalysing it. Like that time in Carter’s class when Rogers walked in and I thought they were flirting”

“Oh please, they totally were. I mean who wouldn’t flirt with Peggy?”

You take a bite of your sandwich as you think back to what happened in Professor Barnes’ office mere moments ago.

If he hadn’t been looking at you, where was he looking? Was he even looking elsewhere at all?

Natasha cuts through your thoughts. “When do you have him next?”

“Monday” you reply, swallowing your mouthful. She nods meaningfully before taking a sip of her coffee and changing the subject.

* * *

The rest of the week goes by quicker than you expect as professors begin handing out their assignments. Your days pass by, not entirely too stressful but with enough work to keep your mind busy.

And before you know it, your alarm is ringing on Monday morning. You hear a groan from your living room and remember Natasha had crashed for the night. Rolling out of bed, you walk to your bedroom door.

“Nat, get your ass up, we need to go soon”

“M’not goin’” she calls back and you laugh.

She lets out a glorious “Ooph” sound when the pillow you throw at her bounces off her head. You had set your alarm a little earlier today knowing you’d have to coax Natasha off the couch. _Coffee should do the trick_ you think as you set a pot to brew and walk over to where she was laying with her arm strewn over her eyes.

You hadn’t seen her clutching it in her hand, so when her arm swung up, the pillow you’d thrown hit you square in the jaw and she cackled.

“Get up or I’m getting a glass of water” you warn through your laughter.

“You wouldn’t dare”

“Try me” you taunt. You stand there for a moment longer before walking to the kitchen and you hear her hurriedly sit up before an emphatic “I’m up! I’m up!”

You always enjoyed having Natasha stay for the night and today was no different. She borrowed your clothes for the day and you ate breakfast for a change. Natasha refused to leave until she ate something while you were usually happy with just a coffee from one of the cafes you passed in the morning.

It’s all going well until you get up to go get changed and Natasha rushes in to your room behind you.

“Can I help you?” you raise an eyebrow at her and she simply replies with a coy smile. _Oh no._

“I figured out how to know once and for all if Barnes was watching you yesterday.”

“… Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

Natasha promptly strides over to your wardrobe, swinging open the doors and a second later, she is pulling out various items.

“Nat no” you argue, stepping towards her in hopes of prying her away from your clothes. This was never a good idea.

“Nat yes” she grins, batting away your hand that had reached for her arm. “If he checks you out today, he was probably checking you out last Tuesday” she explains as she pulls out a particularly short dress.

“I am not spending my day half naked on campus, thank you very much” you retort.

“I’m not telling you to. But if you feel confident and sexy, you’ll _look_ confident and sexy. You don’t have to reveal any skin at all if you don’t want to” she explains, pulling out a skirt and turning to you, a pile of clothes slung over her forearm. “Or you can completely ignore me and wear whatever you want. What will it be today, the blue hoodie? Or the black one?” she concludes.

You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you think it over for a moment. _It would let me know once and for all_ you realise.

The small smile that passes your lips is enough to indicate to Natasha that you’re on board and she places the clothes on your bed before turning to you once more. “Go get ‘em, you saucy minx” and you laugh. “What are you, 50?” With that, she walks out of your room, leaving you to get changed.

* * *

 

Natasha had the idea to take your time getting to your morning lecture so that Professor Barnes is already there when you walk in. And it was a good thing she did because the jolt of giddiness that ran through you when you walked in only to have Barnes glance up at you and practically do a discreet double take, eyebrows raised, had you biting back a grin.

“You’re going to ruin the man” Natasha whispers behind you as you walk down a row of seats and you take a wild guess that he’s watching. You don’t hold back the smile this time around.

Taking a seat, you finally look up to see his eyes darting around the room before landing on you once more. He seems to noticed the way your lips curled slightly as he narrows his eyes marginally, shaking his head a fraction, before he addresses the class.

He doesn’t look your way any more than he normally would but you take note of how his gaze lingers every time he does. You manage to take notes this time around, despite his dark grey shirt that was fitted perfectly to emphasise his broad chest and narrower waist.

“Why do you think the Brontës are such popular novelist to this day?” Professor Barnes addresses the question to the class. And taking the opportunity, when somebody finally begins to answer, you decide to take things a little further.

Natasha drops her head to hide her laughter when she sees you taking a page out of her book, slyly placing the tip of your pen on your bottom lip and dragging it down ever so slightly when Barnes next looks your way. He raises his eyebrow, a lopsided smirk playing at his lips, his expression almost warning you before he returns his attention to the girl answering.

You’d noticed how a lot of girls and a few of the guys who’d normally have turned up to class in their usual Monday morning hangover getup had decided to also make an effort today. But none of them seemed to get any reaction out of Professor Barnes.

When the class ends, you tell Natasha to go ahead and she simply grins at you before leaving. You take your time packing your things away so that by the time you stand, the hall is empty of students.

Professor Barnes is standing, arms crossed on his chest, leaning against his desk. Damn, _this man knows what works for him and he sticks with it_ you think. He has a practically sinful smirk playing across his lips.

“I know what you’re doing” he calls, his voice low but you hear him loud and clear in the empty auditorium.

“Leaving to go to my next class?” you ask, feigning innocence as you make your way across the aisle.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing. I’m your professor.” He warns but the smile doesn’t stray.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, _professor._ ” You reply, walking down the steps as he stands straight, grabbing his briefcase, and striding over to the door.

You reach the bottom of the steps just as he holds the door open. “After you” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Thanking him, you walk past Professor Barnes in to the hallway, hearing his footsteps following close behind you.

Turning, you add “Oh, I have the notes I borrowed last week” and you don’t fail to notice his eyes snapping up to meet yours once again and you bite your lip to hold back the smile. Reaching in to your bag, you pull out his lesson notes and hold them out to him without another word.

He takes them from you but his eyes linger on your lip caught between your teeth and his voice is lower than you expected when he simply responds with a “Thank you”. But the bastard decides to play a little game of his own when, after blatantly staring at your lips, he looks you right in the eye and fixes you with an intense stare.

It takes you by surprise. Up until now you’d been in control of the situation, making all the moves. You hadn’t expected a countermove. He was your professor, after all.

Before you can react, you hear someone call. “Barnes, you have any other lessons?”

Professor Rogers. _Fuck._

You realise you’re still holding the papers when you pull you hand away, quickly bidding him farewell and making your way out, walking past Steve who’d just approached behind you.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t know you were still with a student” Rogers says, looking back at your retreating figure.

“Nah, she was just returning some notes” he recovers quickly, making sure he doesn’t watch you leave in case Steve notices.

The blonde’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since when do you give students your notes?”

Barnes is quiet, unsure of how to answer, before he says “She was sick but still came to class. I thought I’d be sympathetic for once. Anyway, what’s up?” he quickly changes the subject.

“Wanna go grab lunch later? I’m free till two” Steve asks, walking out of the building beside Barnes.

“Uh yeah, sure, I don’t have any classes from one till three” he replies, still trying to shake the image of you biting your lip from his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha gazes at you, for the umpteenth time this lesson. And you ignore it, for the umpteenth time this lesson. You know she has questions but you’re not sure if you’re ready to answer them just yet.

She finally gives up the wait.

“You’ve been quiet since you left his class, did something happen?” she asks, the amusement trailing through her voice.

“Nope” you reply quietly. She stays silent as Professor Carter goes quiet while opening a link on her presentation. It doesn’t take long before Natasha speaks up as a video begins to play, her voice buzzing with excitement.

“Oh my god, something totally happened, you little shit!” she hisses, staring at you expectantly.

You give in.

“He started flirting back a bit” you whisper, trying to sound nonchalant and bite back your grin.

Natasha scoffs out an impressed laugh before she whispers “Do tell”

“There’s nothing to tell. Professor Rogers walked in and I left” you explain before deciding to finally look at Natasha. Bad idea. As soon as you glance at her and see the excitement brimming under the surface, the smile you’d been holding back comes in full force.

“Look at you, flirting with a professor. Eighteen-year-old you would be so proud of you”

You laugh “Eighteen-year-old me would be breaking out in hives from the anxiety, who are you kidding?”

“I would have thought I didn’t need to tell you guys not to talk in class at this point but I guess I’m mistaken.” Professor Carter’s voice has your head snapping back to the front of the class and you see a few people had turned to look at you and Natasha. You both apologise while Peggy raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at the pair of you before returning to her lecture.

Walking out of class, Natasha and you make your way to Roger’s lecture and it doesn’t take long for Nat to return to the topic of you and Professor Barnes.

“What did he say when you were leaving? What actually happened?” and although she tries to sound apathetic, you know just how eager she is to hear what you have to say.

You recall your professor’s warnings and the way he shifted control of the situation before Rogers arrived and Natasha is silent throughout. You finish just as you walk in to class.

“Well if it isn’t Professor Cockblock himself” Natasha turns to whisper and you bat her arm to shush her.

Her soft laugh catches Professor Rogers’ attention as you walk to your seats and you miss the way his gaze stays on you for a moment, curiosity washing over his features, before he returns to taking out his class notes and beginning the lecture.

* * *

Reaching in to your bag, you pull out your purse to pay for your food when you notice a sheet of paper lying underneath your notebook. Handing the cashier your money, you grab your burrito, stuffing your purse back in your bag before pulling out the piece of paper.

_God damn it._

It was one of the sheets from the notes Professor Barnes had let you borrow. Anxiety fills you as you realise you’d have to face him again so soon. You hadn’t prepared to see him until next week, by which time you hoped you would have calmed down about what had happened.

 _Why did I let Nat talk me in to flirting?_ You think, knowing full well that she had no part in it but needing someone to blame besides yourself.

Taking a seat by the window of the café, you eat in silence, the morning’s events replaying in your mind on loop. If Professor Rogers hadn’t arrived, what would have happened? Would he have recoiled completely, unable to look at you like he did in his office? What would _you_ have done if Rogers hadn’t arrived? Question after question fills your mind with no answers and you take your time finishing your lunch.

Praying he wasn’t in his office, you make your way over to the building in which it resides. _At least then I know I tried and it’s not on my conscience if he needs his notes and finds himself short one sheet… Please don’t be in, please don’t be in, oh god please_.

Your knock echoes through the empty hall.

You hear movement on the other side of the door and your heart plummets.

Professor Wilson swings open the door. You’re taken by surprise as the man calls over his shoulder “Hey Buck, you’ve got a visitor” before turning to you with a dazzling smile. You’d never had him as a professor but Natasha claimed his classes were her favourite because of how easy going he was. And apparently, everyone shared the same sentiment.

You step aside to let him pass and Bucky walks up to the door as his colleague leaves. He doesn’t hide his surprise upon seeing you, pausing for a moment before inviting you in and closing the door.

“What can I help you with?” he asks, walking past you to his desk to rearrange his piles of paper and it’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to find something to keep himself looking busy.

“Oh uh, I found this sheet at the bottom of my bag and I thought you might want it back” you explain, reaching in to your bag and pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper.

“You came all the way here for that?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Well why else would I be here?” you ask and you see that glimmer of mischief shine in his blue eyes once more. He laughs slightly, looking down at his feet before glancing back up to see you waiting with bated breath.

His voice drops low “I think you wanted to come here and see if I did anything”

“To your office? Isn’t that a bit cliché?” you laugh nervously.

“Oh come on, you were being so confident earlier today. Don’t like it when the tables have turned?” he asks, hands in his pockets, and his eyes don’t leave yours.

 _You’re so screwed_ you think. Any confidence you’d had in the morning was drained as soon as Rogers walked in to the picture. But the way he was looking at you, almost daring you to make a move, had you feeling downright sinful.

“Like I said this morning; I have no clue what you’re talking about” you retort, raising an eyebrow so suavely that Peggy would be proud. You pray he won’t question it.

“Oh _really_?” Professor Barnes challenges, his voice gravelly as he talks in a hushed tone.

It happens before you can register what’s going on.

He strides towards you, his hands gripping on to your hips and your back hits the wall. He’s towering over you, his lips mere inches away from yours, both pairs parted slightly. Your gaze darts between his lips and his eyes. The close proximity lets you see the hints of grey in his otherwise strikingly blue eyes and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“We shouldn’t be doing this” he whispers but he doesn’t sound convinced with the words himself. You simply gulp down the lump forming in your throat as you reply meekly “We really shouldn’t” and you sound just as unconvincing as he does.

“You’re going to get me in so much trouble” he smirks, dropping his head as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth.

A knock on the door echoes through the room.

In a flash, he pulls you away from the wall, taking the paper from you and placing a hand on the small of your back before you can react.

Swinging open the door, he leads you out of his office. “Thank you for dropping this off, I’ll see you in class next week” he says and his voice is back to normal, as if he wasn’t moments away from kissing you just a second ago. And the student standing at his door looks none the wiser. You simply nod, bidding him farewell and willing your cheeks to stop burning and the grin to fade as you hurry down the hall and out of the building. You pull out your phone to text Natasha before reconsidering, throwing the phone back in your bag and deciding it was about time you went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry


	5. Chapter 5

His lips press to your collar bone and you pull your arms but they’re firmly clasped in his hand above your head. You want nothing more than to touch him and it becomes apparent that he’s revelling in the fact when he grins as he softly bites your skin.

“Someone’s eager” he teases, tilting his head up to look at you. But just as you open your mouth to respond, he rolls his hips, grinding against you and you let out a soft whimper.

His hand trails across your skin, down your side, settling on your waist as he moves himself up. His lips press softly behind your ear causing a shiver to run down your spine before he whispers.

A shrill ringing pierces the air.

You jolt awake, taking a moment to grasp your surroundings before turning off your alarm with a groan. Your sheets stick to your damp skin and you kick them off. This was the third dream you’d had about a certain professor this week and every time, it was interrupted. Needless to say, you were well and truly frustrated.

Natasha noticed your frustration from your snippy replies when you arrived on campus. Which is why you hold up a middle finger to accompany your glare when she remarks “Someone needs to get laid”. Friday meant you only had two lectures mid-day before you could go home. Natasha had just come out of a lecture when you arrived and just like every other Friday, you’d waited by a certain coffee cart for her to meet you before heading to your lecture together.

“You’re free after 3, right?” she asks as you make your way across campus.

“Why what’s up?” you ask.

“You didn’t answer the question” she retorts.

“Whether or not I’m free depends on what you have planned” you grin, earning yourself an elbow to the side.

“There’s that talk I want to go to tonight and you’re coming” she states, dropping her empty coffee cup in a trash can as you walk by.

“I am? What’s it about?”

“The importance of 1940s war literature and why it should be compulsory to study”

You raise an eyebrow at her, sceptical of her intents “When the fuck did you become interested in 1940s war literature?” you ask, amusement lacing your every word.

She frowns slightly, looking offended “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Name one writer from that era” you challenge.

She remains silent, her eyes focused on a spot in the distance as she focuses, her lips slightly pursed. A laugh escapes you “Dude, “The Slaves of Solitude”? We did it last year in Rogers’ class!” you exclaim and with one look at the way her lips twitch, realisation hits.

You groan “Ugh, is Rogers the one speaking?” you ask and she shrugs “Maybe”. You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips “What are you going to do, try and distract him while he talks?” and a playful glint sparkles in her eyes “How fun would that be? But no, not this time” she concludes just as you walk in to the lecture hall.

Both classes pass at an agonising pace as Friday lectures always do. You weren’t with Natasha in the second class but you were glad you had Wanda. You weren’t as close but you’d met each other in the first year of your masters and you shared some classes since. And if it wasn’t for her, this ‘Reorienting the Novel’ class would without a doubt be the death of you.

“This class is going to kill me. I’ll die of boredom. Scientists everywhere will be baffled. I’ll be celebrated in history as the only person to ever die from being _so god damn bored”_ you whisper, earning a soft laugh from Wanda who promptly pretends to doze off as Dr Smiths’ monotonous voice drones on.

Time drags on. You breathe a visible sigh of relief when he ends his lesson, as does everyone else in the class. But as always, Professor Smiths fails to notice.

“I have a theory he doesn’t even acknowledge us. He just talks until time is up. We could all be doing whatever the hell we want and he wouldn’t even notice” Wanda explains as you walk out of the class and you agree whole heartedly

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” she asks.

“Oh yeah, having a wild Friday night. Getting dragged along to hear a Professor speak about books. Crazy stuff” you reply sarcastic and she grins “There’s nothing wrong with going to those talks” Wanda argues.

“Why would I go from my classes where I hear professors talk about books to an event… where I hear my professors _talk about books_ ” you ask incredulously

“Just see how it goes, you might enjoy it” she concludes and you simply roll your eyes dramatically.

 The two of you part ways as she heads to her next lecture and you make your way to the car park to head home when your phone buzzes.

> _“ I’ll come by at 4 so we can go together ”_

* * *

 

Natasha may be late for lessons and meetings but when it came down to things she was excited about, you could always expect her to be on time, if not early. And today was no different.

A knock echoes through your apartment at 4 o’clock on the dot and you begrudgingly get up from the couch you’d planted yourself on.

Natasha steps in the moment you swing open the door, grabbing your phone from your table and holding it out for you.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Woman. You just got here. Calm your tits” you reply, taking your phone from her before deliberately taking your time moving around your apartment to collect your things.

Her threat to wipe your calendar of essay deadlines if you didn’t hurry up is what finally gets you out of your apartment, car keys in hand.

You pull up in a parking complex beside the community hall where the event is taking place and it turns out more people than you expected turned up, a fact you only realise when you walk in to a packed hall. But you manage to find two chairs at the back and you take a seat when you speak softly “I guess a lot of people want an excuse to see Rogers as desperately as you do.” This only earns you a raised, meticulously shaped eyebrow and Natasha’s signature glare. You simply grin before static noise from someone plugging in microphones cuts through everyone’s soft chatter.

A host walks on stage, briefly explaining the topic of the afternoon before listing the next speaker’s credentials. He finishes soon enough, however, before Professor Rogers is called upon stage.

The talk isn’t as boring as you’d expected. The energy Rogers had in class translates well in this new setting and he has the audience listening keenly as he discusses the importance of various novels to our understanding of life before, during and after the second world war.

It also passes a lot quicker than you’d expected. Before you know it, Rogers is concluding his talk as the host once again walks on stage and introduces another speaker. She isn’t as engaging as Professor Rogers but she expands on the topic and you’re far enough in to it to enjoy her lecture none-the-less. And you had to admit, you were surprised Natasha had been quiet throughout.

The host comes on stage one last time to conclude the evening’s talk before the doors are opened and you’re allowed to make your way out. But Natasha stays in her seat and so do you, waiting for people to leave. And it is only then that you notice the other people around your age who were also sitting in their seats.

Rogers walks around the stage, his coat slung over his forearm. He smiles as the students, including yourself and Nat, approach the front of the hall.

A soft chatter commences amongst the small group complimenting the speaker as you all walk out of the hall.

“So” Rogers begins, clapping his hands together, “Who’s up for some drinks?” he asks with a grin and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on Natasha. And judging by the small smirk playing at her lips, neither does she.

Three of the students who had stayed behind turn down the offer, Professor Rogers telling them he’d see them in class, before he and the five other students walk alongside Natasha and yourself down the road to a bar.

It becomes apparent that this was one of the many bars students favoured in town when you walk in to see the many bodies dancing in front of the DJ on stage. Rogers leads you all to the bar with a “First drinks are on me. _Only_ the first drinks, mind you. I may be your professor but I do remember what college drinking was like” he chuckles.

You’re surprised by how comfortable the conversation is. He asks each of you what you were planning on doing after you finished your degrees, responding with sufficient intrigue at people’s plans and with support and reassurance when one of the guys mentioned being unsure of what he was going to do after he graduated.

When it came to you, it was all going well until you finished explaining your plans after university. Without thinking, you say “Or I could turn to teaching. But I could have sworn being old and monotonous was a requirement or somethin’” and it’s only when Natasha’s eyes widen a fraction that you realise what you’d said. But before you can back-pedal, Professor Rogers laughs, heartily, and the group promptly joins in as you try and explain through your embarrassed giggle.

“Damn, I sure hope I wasn’t old and monotonous on stage tonight” Rogers teases but just as you open your mouth to reassure him, a hand clasp’s Professor Rogers’ shoulder from behind.

“Oh shit Steve, you actually managed to wrangle a few suckers?”

A broad shouldered man steps out from behind Rogers, a dark blue shirt paired with a leather jacket, dark hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. “Don’t mind him, he knows he’s boring. Lord knows I’ve been tellin’ him for long enough” he chuckles.

His grin, however, falls a fraction the moment his eyes land on you.

 _Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeeeeeek


	6. Chapter 6

Of all the people you would ever have expected to see tonight,  
Professor Barnes was the last person you’d have guessed. But life is a fickle  
bitch. And so that is precisely who you have the fortune to meet.

And is if that wasn’t enough, the moment you lay your eyes on him, images of his lips pressing against your skin flood your mind and you look away immediately.

_Fuck fuck fuck this is the last thing I need._

“You’re hilarious” Steve deadpans as Barnes comes to stand beside him before Rogers introduces him to the group. “This is Professor James Barnes, although I know some of you have the misfortune of being in his classes” Rogers smiles at you and trying to casually return the gesture is difficult when you see Natasha look at you from the corner of your eye.

Steve turns to order drinks for the group and Nat waits till there is enough chatter amongst the group before asking “So what did Rogers mean by that look?”

“What look?” you try to act unfazed. It doesn’t work.

“ _That_ look. How did he even know you’re in his class?”

A loud guffaw from one of the guys breaks you both from your hushed conversation and you’re secretly relieved. You hadn’t told Natasha about Steve walking in on Bucky flirting with you and the more time that passed, the less likely it seemed that you would delve in to that specific event. You weren’t sure if it was because you were embarrassed by what happened or if talking about it would just make it all the more real. 

You turn to grab one of the beers the bartender was lining up for everyone but you lose your train of thought when you glance at Professor Barnes and realise his eyes are on you, his lower lip caught between his teeth. But he doesn’t look away when you catch him.

And in that moment, the images you were keeping at bay come back in full force. The dreams that had been taunting you all week play vividly in your mind. And as you watch him, you can practically feel his hands skirting along your sides, his thumb pressing in to your skin and his breath fanning your neck. 

You dip your head, your cheeks ablaze, before turning your attention to Rogers who is recounting a story from his college days. Barnes and himself had been friends since high school, it seemed, and it wasn’t long before Professor Rogers was telling stories about the trouble they got in to, much to Barnes’ dismay. James kept trying to stop his friend before particularly incriminating tales but he kept laughing through his protests. That was until he spoke over Steve’s words, placing a hand on his shoulder and announcing “Thaaats enough there, buddy. None of this means you can act out in my classes, by the way” he warns, grinning at the group as Rogers rolled his eyes. 

“Of course the two hottest professors are fucking gal pals” Natasha leans over to whisper and you raise your hand to your mouth to stifle your laugh but it earns you the attention of both professors in question. They eye the two of you momentarily before Rogers looks away. But Barnes’ gaze doesn’t leave you and once again you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

_What are you doing? He’s clearly interested_ you scold yourself. And as if she read your mind, Natasha takes the empty beer glass out of your hand and replaces it with a cocktail.

Taking a sip you feel Natasha’s hand on your arm as she leans in to whisper in your ear, turning her head so no one else can hear.

“Just do what you were doing in class. He can’t keep his eyes off of you”

Her vote of confidence coupled with the drink in your hands has you making up your mind.

You level his stare. His lower lip pops out from between his teeth and he smirks. You simply raise your glass to your lips, smiling behind your drink but your eyes don’t leave his. His thumb circles the rim of his glass as he takes a seat on a barstool.

You hear your name being called and your head snaps towards the voice. Rogers is looking at you with slight confusion etched in to his features but it only remains for a moment before he laughs softly “I asked if you’d gotten anywhere with my assignment, we were discussing different ways to approach the essay title” and your mind begins racing to remember what assignment he was talking about, trying to forget all thoughts about Barnes swimming around your mind.

“Uh yeah, I began planning it the other night” you lie. Steve opens his mouth but is cut off by Natasha.

“Weren’t you saying you were going to explore available texts on the Howling Commandos?” Natasha gives you an out and it takes everything within you to hold back a visible sigh of relief as you remember what essay Rogers had set.

“Yeah, there isn’t much I could find online so I’ll be going in to the library but I thought that could be an interesting angle” you chime but pray to anyone who’d listen that Rogers wouldn’t ask any further questions as it was only a matter of time before he caught you lying through your teeth. But he seems to be satisfied enough with your answer and begins talking to everyone in the group once more. 

You look a Natasha, a small smile on your lips and she simply winks in return.

But when your gaze falls on Barnes again, he has a sly grin on his lips, his eyes narrowed slightly as he watches you. You manage to catch yourself before visibly looking affronted and instead simply raise your eyebrow, matching his sly smile before taking another sip of your cocktail. He raises his own glass to his lips. 

Time passes between the glances, smirks and lip biting. And you allow yourself to indulge in the idea of it ever being something more than sly flirting. And the thought gets your buzzing.

You try zoning back in to the conversation in the group every so often so as to not be put on the spot again and so, when everyone laughs all of a sudden, you’re joining in as if you weren’t checking out Professor Sex-On-Legs sitting over there. Except when Natasha laughs, she laughs a little too hard, dropping her glass on your leg causing her drink to soak your jeans. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” She quickly stands, grabbing napkins from the bar to dab your leg but you push her off, laughing. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll go to the toilets”

“I’ll come with” she offers and for the first time, you see her cheeks tinged pink and the sight is a surprise, but heart-warming none the less. “Dude, calm down. They’re my old jeans anyway. Get another drink” you grin, grabbing your bag and following signs to the toilets.

“Hey wait up” you hear and you turn. One of the guys from your group was jogging down the hall to you.

He grins “I thought I’d keep you company”. 

“To the toilets?” you tease and he chuckles softly.

“I’m Tristan” he introduces himself, sliding both hands in to his pockets, raising his shoulders slightly as he gives you another dimpled grin. You introduce yourself as you turn back the way you were heading with Tristan in tow.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around. You’re in my class with Rogers” he explains and you look up at him in surprise “Oh? Damn, I don’t think I’ve seen you” you laugh softly and he feigns offence “Oh, I see how it is” he argues, clutching his chest before laughing. 

He opens the door for you as you walk up to the restroom and you can’t help but laugh when he bows slightly, pointing you in. “Dork” you mutter as you walk in. You grab paper towels and walk to the sink, soaking the tissue before dabbing at your thigh.

“So that essay question, you’ve actually started planning it?” Tristan calls from the other side of the door. “What do you mean?” you ask. “Well it isn’t due for another three weeks” he explains and you scoff. 

“Of course I have, what do you take me for? I take my degree seriously, thank you very much” You hear silence before you snort “I’m kidding, I didn’t even remember what the question was until Nat helped me out” and you hear a chuckle from the man waiting outside for you. 

You ask him about his other classes and he keeps you company while you clean as much of the stain as you could. Your leg was no longer sticky but it was definitely soaked. Sticking your leg under the hand dryer, you manage to dry off most of it but give up after a while, swinging the door open to find Tristan leaning against the wall.

“So” he starts but goes silent.

“So …” you continue.

“What do you do for fun? When you’re not in classes?” he asks, looking over at you as you walk back down the hall.

“Do you want to honest answer? Or the answer that doesn’t make me sound like a hermit?” you reply and he chuckles, nudging your arm with his elbow “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad”.

“Tristan. I lounge around my apartment doing jack shit most of the time. I might go out sometimes if Natasha drags me along but most of the time I prefer to be at home with friends rather than out. Hermit” you explain and he’s silent. When you look up at him, however, he’s got a smile curling his lips as he watches you.

You’re already at the end of the hall before either of you speak up again. 

“Well ‘hermit’, how about you go out to lunch with me sometime?” he offers.

You freeze “What?” you ask surprised and he laughs.

“Oh come on, even hermits have to eat. It’s just lunch, what do you say?”

You see something coming towards you from the corner of your eye but when you turn, Tristan is barged to the side as someone collides with his shoulder walking past.

“Woaw hey, dude, look where you’re going!” Tristan calls but the man doesn’t turn, his shoulder length hair bouncing against a leather jacket as the man storms away from the two of you. Your eyebrows furrow

“Is that Barnes?” Tristan asks and you nod “Yeah I think so”

Tristan chuckles “Damn, Either he’s really annoyed or just _really_ needs to pee” and you laugh politely, your mind occupied. “So?” he asks.

Pausing for a moment, you remember what he’d asked. 

“Uh yeah, sure. Next Tuesday sound good to you?” 

“Perfect” he grins just as you reach the rest of the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled with this one, I'm sorry


	7. Chapter 7

You managed to forget about Barnes barging past, it seemed he had left not soon after the incident and the night went on without him.  

Saturday morning wasn’t a fun occasion, what with your throbbing headache and a strong case of sandpaper tongue. And Sunday was spent at Natasha’s apartment helping her clean it out. How she managed to let so much crap build up was beyond your understanding.

And so Monday morning rolls around once more as your alarm jolts you awake. The idea of seeing Professor Barnes again makes you happier than you’d care to admit. _Get a grip, woman_.

You go through the paces of getting ready, collecting your things and driving to uni and as always, you have time to spare. So you stroll to one of the cafes and buy yourself a cup of coffee when your phone chimes and a text from Natasha comes through.

> _“ That Chinese we had last night has betrayed me ”_

You tap back a response.

> _“ Really? I’m feeling fine. How bad is it? ”_
> 
> _“ Let’s just say I spent the entire night in the bathroom ”_

You smirk slightly, making your way out of the café and across campus.

> _“ Sexy ”_
> 
> _“ This isn’t funny you bitch. I’m dying ”_
> 
> _“ Aww poor Nat. ”_
> 
> _“ You’re the worst ”_

You arrive at the lecture hall not long after, taking a seat and pulling out your notepad. _You better not get distracted again_ you warn yourself. People begin filing in and the class slowly fills up before Professor Barnes strolls across the front of the room. You sit up a little.

“Everyone do the reading I set online?” He asks when the class quietens, smirking as he looks around the room. But he doesn’t look at you.

“Good because we’re going to reference it a lot today. Get out the text while I set things up”

He turns to the computer to open up his presentation and you take your book out of your bag. Returning his attention to the class, with his book in hand, he asks “Does anyone want to read a passage?” His gaze wanders across the seats but flits over you. You smile slightly. _Guess he’s taking precautions after last time_.

“No? It’s just me again?” he chuckles softly before guiding everyone to the right page. And he begins to read.

He looks up from the book at the class periodically but not once does he look at you. Compared to last week when he glanced at you any chance he could get, this was starting to seem strange.

The passage comes to an end and he clicks to the next slide. “Now, why does the author decide to switch to a memory in this passage?” He asks the class. Silence.

You raise your hand, relishing in this opportunity to have him at least acknowledge your presence.

He continues to look around the class.

“Anyone?”

You feel a prickle down your spine as embarrassment and anger begins to boil. _Is he serious? Just fucking look at me_.

“Come on guys, it’s not hard”

You can feel people staring at you but it’s too late to lower your hand. You keep it up. He keeps ignoring you.

A guy in the back raises his hand slightly and Professor Barnes jumps at the opportunity. “Yes, in the back!”

You drop your hand.

_What the fuck is going on?_

Your cheeks are hot and you can’t help the scowl tainting your face. But it’s not like he notices.

“Good, and why was this such a revolutionary thing?” he asks, following the answer he just received. Narrowing your eyes slightly, _daring_ him to ignore you again, you raise your hand once more.

He drops his head, sighing deeply before speaking up “Up until this point in time, there was a very set structure for novels” he pauses, looking back up at the class.

 _You’re answering the question yourself?_ You think in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” you blurt out before you can think.

He _finally_ looks at you.

“I would kindly ask you not to interrupt me. If you find that’s too difficult for you, you’re welcome to leave” his voice remains calm but his gaze is ice cold. If people weren’t staring at you before, they definitely were now and you feel your skin prickling.

Professor Barnes continues to avoid looking at you for the rest of the lesson and you don’t try to answer any more questions. Everyone is soon dismissed, Barnes being the first to walk out.

Making your way out behind the crowd, you make up your mind. You were going to be late for your next class but quite frankly, you were too riled up to care.It doesn’t take long to get to his office. You hear shuffling behind his door when you knock. Professor Barnes swings open the door but his face hardens the moment he sees you.

“Office hours are Tuesday and Thursday from 12 to 3 for a reason” he says gruffly, addressing you by your last name.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, if you come on Tuesday or Thursday from 12 to 3” he repeats before stepping back to close the door.

You’re livid.

“Oh so you flirt with me at the clu – ” you blurt out but you’re cut off when the door swings back open violently and you’re pulled in by your arm.

Professor Barnes closes his office door before spinning on his feels “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, anger lacing every word.

“With me? You spend the entire night eye fucking me on Friday and today you’re acting as if I don’t exist?” you spit back. You’re so confused and frustrated that you can’t help but argue.

“Need I remind you, I’m your professor?” he warns, pushing his hair back, disgruntled.

“Oh? You didn’t seem to mind when you pinned me against that wall” you hiss, nodding towards the wall by his door as you cross your arms. The hairs on the back of your neck were standing on end and your cheeks were ablaze.

“Well that was a mistake and I can _assure_ you, it will not be happening again” he bites back, his jaw set and his fists clenched.

“Professor Barnes, could you kindly make up your _fucking_ mind so that I can move on with my life?” you ask, feigning politeness before letting the anger show in your voice.

“That’s exactly the problem” he growls.

Your brows knit together and silence fills the air momentarily.

But just as you open your mouth to respond, he closes the gap between you, his hands landing on your jaw as his lips crash in to yours.

The kiss is desperate and fiery. Your hands grip on to his shirt in an instant as his wind in to your hair, pulling you closer. You’re both so riled up and it all translates in to this kiss, your teeth clashing, your eyes shut tight and your knuckles turning white.

You part slightly, James resting his forehead against yours, his hands still in your hair as you catch your breath.

“God damn you Barnes” you whisper and he laughs shakily.

“You’re nothing but trouble” he replies, leaning in to nip your bottom lip lightly, causing you to smile.

“What the hell was going on today?” you ask, moving back to look him in the eye and his hands fall to his side. But the anger has diminished.

He sighs “Just watching that guy flirt with you on Friday pissed me off” he mumbles, his cheeks heating up slightly “I know it’s stupid. And spending all weekend knowing I had no right to be angry just made it worse.”

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips and his expression softens, smiling slightly “I’m such an idiot” he mumbles, shaking his head.

“Yes, you are” you laugh. “I only met Tristan that night, it wasn’t what you think”

“He asked you out, didn’t he?” Barnes asks, cocking an eyebrow but his smile remained.

“To lunch” you emphasise “It’s nothing. And even if it was, it’s like you said, _you had no right to be angry_ ” you tease.

“Yeah. But what about now?” he asks, his voice dropping again as his hands land on your waist and his face hovers above yours, a cocky smirk playing at his lips.

“What _about_ now?” you reply.

His mood shifts and sighs slightly “I could lose my job if anything happens. _Too much_ has happened already” and it’s as if he’s warning himself just as much as he’s warning you.

“Yeah…” is all you can get out.

Silence falls around you, the only sound in the office the ticking of his clock.

You’re the first to speak “How about we stop. Take some time to consider everything. _If_ anything happens, there is a _lot_ at stake, James” you propose and he nods softly, thinking it over.

“Okay” you whisper, stepping out of his hold once more and he smiles softly. “I’ll see you in class?” you ask and he nods, his smile not falling.

But just as you’re about to walk past, he pulls you in one last time, softly planting his lips on yours and smiling in to the kiss.

You walk in to your lecture a few minutes later and all eyes fall on you. But quite frankly, you were too elated to care.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the wait! Life just caught up with me and this chapter kicked me in the ass. Hopefully it isn't too bad.

Knocking on her door, you wait for Natasha to let you in. It felt strange being nervous when at Nat’s apartment, it was always like a second home to you. But you never kept things from her before. There was just something about what had been going on that had stopped you from sharing. Maybe it was because you were dealing with a Professor? Maybe you feared being judged? Which was absurd, Natasha would never do that and you knew it. Or maybe it was because, up until now, you weren’t entirely sure if what was happening was really as you remembered.

She swings open her door and walks back in to her apartment, strolling over to her sofa. You follow behind her, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen counter before taking a seat beside her.

Sitting in front of the television, you take in her appearance. She looked pale, her hair tied back and she was wearing sweatpants and an old shirt.

“You really let yourself go. Did Steve reject you?” you tease and she glares at you.

“Fuck off” she mutters and you laugh. “What did you want to talk about? Or did you come here to look after your sick friend. I  _really_  wouldn’t oppose, you know” she asks and you feel the bottom of your stomach drop. You didn’t expect to confess so quickly.

* * *

 

She picks up on your silence and looks over at you, turning the television off. “Seriously, are you okay?” her tone shifting to concern.

With the quiet noise of the T.V now gone, the room was filled with a deafening silence as you collect your thoughts.  _It’s really not that bad, calm down for gods sake_  you scold yourself.

Natasha stays quiet, giving you the time to find the words. It feels like time stretches on before you finally speak.

And it’s like you can’t stop. You tell her everything, the flirting in the corridor before Steve almost caught you, what happened in your Professor’s office, the night at the bar and after class today. And she remains quiet.

When you finally finish, you realise you had been looking anywhere but at Natasha. But when you chance a glance, your heart drops. Her eyebrows furled, lips curled in a soft frown, her eyes study you.

A moment passes before she speaks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks softly.

“I don’t know, Nat. I think I just…” your words trail off. Truth is, you weren’t entirely sure yourself.

“Did you think I’d judge you or something?” and the pain is evident in how controlled her words are. Something you’d learnt to pick up on over the years.

“No!... Yes? I don’t know” you go quiet. The silence in the room is unbearable. Another moment passes before you speak again.

“Truth is I think I was afraid. This is such a messy situation and nothing has even happened yet. I guess I just thought that if I don’t talk about it, it won’t be real and I can just continue living in this bubble where this isn’t a stupid situation on all counts.” You sigh as the truth sets in.

“You know you can trust me, right?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow and though she’d never admit it, she was holding her breath on your response.

“Of course I do, Nat” you reply. And that reassurance is all she needs for her mood to shift dramatically.

“So… you kissed him??” she asks and you can’t help but laugh in surprise.

“Technically,  _he_ kissed  _me_ ” you confirm and she grins “Look at you! What’s happening next?” she asks suggestively.

Rolling your eyes, you reply “Nothing. We’re taking things slow”

“Oh fuck off” she laughs “You two? You look like you’re undressing each other in your minds any time you’re in a room together” and she’s cut off when you nudge her with your elbow “Ow! What? It’s true.”

“It absolutely is not” you reply assuredly, taking a swig of your water.

“If I remember correctly, you were practically giving your pencil a blowjob in class last time.” She smirks.

You have to cover your mouth to stop from spitting out your water as she cackles. You laugh, wiping the water from your chin “You’re such a bitch.”

“You deserve that one for not telling me!” she replies with a grin, handing you a tissue when you start rubbing at the wet patch on your jeans.

“Okay so I was thinking we try that new ramen place in town at lunch tomorrow” Natasha suggests as she picks up the remote, turning the T.V back on.

“Oh I can’t, I’m grabbing lunch with Tristan” you say absentmindedly, your attention now on the reruns playing on screen

“Tristan? From the bar?” Natasha asks, quirking her eyebrow as she bites back a smirk.

“Yup” you reply, punctuation the word with a pop.

“Holy shit, look at you  _go_!” she responds approvingly and you can’t help but scoff.

“It’s just lunch. As  _friends_ ” you emphasise.

Natasha simply replies with an “Uh-huh”, no longer holding back her smirk.

* * *

Despite having a few free hours on Tuesdays, Bucky never really got a break, what with all the papers he must read and mark each week. He learnt early on though that setting mattered when it came to getting work done and so ever since he started this job, his free hours were spent in one of the cafes on campus surrounded by essays and coffee.

And today was no different. One hand resting in his hair, Bucky is hunched over yet another essay, making notes in the margins while leafing through the pages.  _Already been here for over an hour and I’ve barely made a dent_  he thinks as he glances at the pile set beside him.

With a soft groan, he pinches the bridge of his nose before reaching for his cup, only to find it void of coffee.

Glancing at the time, he closes the lid of his laptop deciding it was time for a break.

But he stills when a soft laugh makes its way across the room.He knows who it is before he even has to take a look.

Glancing around, he finds you seated at a table beside the window, a hand covering your mouth as an easy laugh falls from your lips.

His focus remains on you for a moment before he realises you’re with company.

 _Get a grip, dude_  he scolds himself when he feels a pit in his stomach. But he can’t help being overcome with a sense of… what was it? Jealousy? Pity? All he knew was that he didn’t like the current arrangements of “talking things slow”.

He looks back at the paper in front of him, picking up the pen as his eyes begin to pass over the lines of the essay. At this point, he welcomed any distraction.

It takes him another page and a half to realise that none of the words were registering. He had no idea what he’d just read and had made no new notes. Instead, Bucky’s mind kept wandering back to the image of your lips curling when he kissed you just the day before.

 _You barely even know her, stop acting like a child_  Bucky reminds himself. He was surprised at how quickly he was getting jealous and how absurd he had felt when you’d told him off for it.

_Since when am I the jealous type?_

But taking another look your way, he realises he can’t just let it be. And so instead of getting upset, resolution sets in as he hastily shoves the papers in his briefcase before picking it up and tucking his laptop under his arm, leaving his right hand empty to pull out his phone and send an email as he walks out of the café.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I made you guys wait so long, here's two chapters in one day. It's been a long time coming

You hadn’t expected lunch to be going so well.

After your class with Rogers, you’d walked out to find Tristan waiting at the classroom door and the two of you walked down to one of the cafes on campus.

Conversation came easy, starting with the class you’d both come out of and eventually branched off into various topics.

You realised how much his personality matched Natasha’s. He was incredibly quick witted and didn’t shy away from playful back and forth. No wonder you were getting along.

And you hadn’t noticed how quickly time had passed once you got to the café until your phone chimed and you saw the time.

* * *

 

“Damn, it’s already been an hour?” you ask.

Tristan laughs softly “Seems so, when do you have to go?”

But you’re already distracted by the name on your screen.

An email from Professor Barnes.

“Uh one sec, sorry can I see this?” you ask, looking up apologetically from your phone but he simply smiles and assures you it’s fine.

Unlocking your phone, you open up your inbox to find one unread email from your Professor addressed to you.

> Please come see me in my office ASAP, I’d like to discuss your essay with you before I return them to the class
> 
> Many thanks,
> 
> James Barnes

_Essay? What essay?_  you wonder. You had yet to be given an assessment in your class with Barnes.

“Is everything okay?” you’re snapped out of your thoughts when you realised you were still sitting at the table with Tristan.

Smiling, you nod “I’m fine. Turns out I need to meet Barnes” you explain, rolling your eyes in feigned exasperation. Sure, he was like Nat, but you weren’t exactly going to tell him how you were secretly excited to be seeing your Professor again so soon.

“Oh I’ll walk you down” he suggests, moving to pick up his bag but you interrupt “No!”

He looks up in surprise.

“I-It’s fine. You’ve already wasted enough of your time with me. You deserve to have  _some_  of your lunch break to yourself” you laugh, playing it off as if you weren’t getting ready to make out with your Professor in his office.  _Again_.

He lets you leave alone and you make your way across campus to Professor Barnes’ office.

You’ve found yourself at his door far more than you have with any of your other professors but that wasn’t something you were willing to admit to anyone any time soon.

The door opens almost the very moment you knock, as if he was already standing by the door in wait of your arrival.

You walk in and a sudden anticipation fills you. This was the first time you’d been in this office without knowing  _why_  you were here.

He’s just as silent as you are walking in and standing in front of his desk, almost mirroring where he stood the first time you were in here. He locks his door behind you before turning.

“So what mysterious essay have I apparently submitted and needs to be discussed?” you ask, a small smirk playing at your lips.

Barnes lets out a soft chuckle “Well I couldn’t exactly write “I want to meet you, leave the café and come to my office”, you do realise the emails we send and receive are monitored, right?” as he strides over to you, standing in front of you with his arms crossed.  _God he looks good_.

You’re slightly taken aback “How did you know I was in the café?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “Professor Barnes, are you  _following_  me?”

Barnes scoffs “Please, I was there marking my papers. You know, like I am  _every_  Tuesday? So I should be asking  _you_  that question” and a dark smile plays across his features.

“So what was it you wanted?” you ask, ignoring the insinuation.

“Your number” he responds nonchalantly.

A laugh escapes your lips “You emailed me to come here so you can ask for my number?”

“Not entirely” he replies, his eyes roaming over you “But it’s a start”.

A heat flushes your cheeks when you notice. You pull out your phone, in desperate need of an excuse to hide your face. You open up your contacts list before exchanging numbers.

He steps closer as you save his number, sending a text to check. It’s only when his phone chimes in his hand that you look up and realise how close he was standing.

He reaches up, his fingers wrapping around your wrists.

“Now” he drawls, voice low. “The reason I called you here” he begins, his dilated pupils landing on your lips.

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours before you pull your head back slowly.

You smirk “What happened to taking things slow?” you ask, your eyes filled with humour at the sight of his bewilderment but he recovers quickly.

“To hell with it” he grins.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you bite your lip through your smile. Your voice is almost a whisper when you reply, “You know, I quite like that plan.”

Leaning forward, your lips crash into his, your hands making their way into his hair and pulling him closer. His hands grip your waist, pulling your body into his as he steps forward, backing you up against his desk.

You break away for air, laughing in disbelief as he watches you hungrily, his chest rising and falling as fast as your own.

“God that shirt looks good on you” you giggle softly, your hand coming down over his shoulder and onto his chest. The dark blue shirt was tailored perfectly to his body and soft to the touch.

Barnes’ voice is almost gravelly when he proposes “Trust me doll, it’ll looks better on the floor” as he leans into the crook of your neck, his lips softly kissing the skin below your ear.

With a glance towards the door, your fingers begin working down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt upon realising the office was locked.

Bucky’s lips move down your neck, peppering kisses along the way before softly biting with a grin as you push his shirt off his shoulders.

Your hands come down to his waist as he pulls back his head, looking down at you as you take in the sight of him, the defined muscles under soft skin remaining firm beneath your fingertips. 

A cocky grin comes to his lips “Didn’t I tell you?”

You laugh, shrugging your shoulders softly “It’ll do” you reply, making him gasp overdramatically

“Oh you’re paying for that one, doll.”

“Is that a promise?” you ask with a quirked eyebrow.

He dips his head in for another kiss, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth earning him a soft moan before he pulls back, his fingers at the hem of your shirt as he pulls it up over your head and to the ground.

You lower your arms and can’t help but revel in the way his eyes trail across your body.

Barnes’ head returns to the crook of your neck, only this time it doesn’t stop its path at your collarbone. Instead he leaves soft nips and kisses down your neck and to the curve of your chest. His hands, on the other hand, move from their place on your hips and instead his thumbs hook under the top of your jeans before he pulls them down off your hips and down your thighs before leaving them to fall to the floor.

Within seconds his hands come to your waist and he picks you up of the ground and seats you upon his desk, his lips not leaving your skin.

Your hands grip on to his shoulder, a small yelp escaping your lips.

He chuckles softly, retreating only to step between your parted legs.

“You sure about this?” he asks, the hunger in his eyes softening.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you grin, nodding.

“Good” he smiles, his eyes landing on your lips once more before darting back up, mischief dancing in his gaze.

 His lips crash into yours, his tongue darting between them as he pulls you forward and you take a sharp breath when you feel his bulge pressed against you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written in a while but finally got some inspiration. I'm excited. I really hope you guys enjoy this!


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